Hidden 3 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by BCTheEntity
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Suffice to say, the cafe and likely former resistance outpost was a mess. The once-fancy dining room was left riddled with bullets, shells, circular holes and the corpses of the resistance members who had not been lucky enough to escape the wrath of the Germans, not to mention a roughly human-shaped hole in one wall from Lillianne’s tender ministrations. Cleaning and rebuilding would likely take a lot of time and money; restoration of the place to a safe resistance stronghold would likely never happen, not with the understanding that the entire city might as well be under the Reich’s watchful gaze, let alone the cafe.

As for that precise moment, however, the only obvious eyes were those of the gang - and, not too much time later, what appeared to be a returning customer, still dressed up for a night out in a long black ballgown, revealing herself from behind a chunk of table she was covering behind. And, seemingly, armed with both an expression that could melt lead, and a MAB Model D pistol, both now aimed at the quintet.

A-alright, you creeps,’ she uttered in perfect, if stammered French, ‘prove you’re not with the Wehrmacht. Prove it, or- or I’ll blow holes in the lot of you!’ This may or may not have been a wise threat to make, since she was outnumbered and threatening five Stand users with or without knowing it, but she did if nothing else have the advantage of already aiming a gun at them.

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Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka


Yonaka stuffed her hands into her pockets. She was still covered pretty soundly in her own blood, her jacket, top, and skin torn. Overall she seemed pretty content with the situation, exhaling a bit. She did seem a little worried on behalf of the Reaper's users as almost all of her squadmates aimed and made threats at him.

"Oi, oi, I said he's alright now. Look at 'im. He's fine!" She gestured at him with an open hand, the palm reddened by her own blood. She smiled brightly while gesturing for everyone to lower their guns. Yonaka believed Till.

"'ello, Mister Lindman. Name's Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka...the first. You can call me any-a those names, should you like." Chloe introduced herself with a little bow and reached out to shake his hand. Again, her own hand was a little bit covered in blood from the shallow wounds Reaper had cut into her white body only a minute ago.

"Mmm..." She turned around, searching for something. "Seems Lilliane's fucked off. Oi, Lilly! Lil-" Chloe turned around to try and find her, but was cut off when someone approached holding a gun. Chloe blinked and raised her hands.

"Ah...yeah..." Chloe said, nodding as if she understood what she was saying. She turned over her shoulder to look at Taras and Kiara. "...Yeah, don't speak french, do I?" She said with a smirk.
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The man Till's explanation seemed honest for what it was worth. Even with Oscuro's stand pointing a gun to his head, he gave his breif backstory without hesitation. All right, so his story was most likely true - but that did little to lessen Taras' suspicion of him. Coupled with the fight they'd just had against him and his own stand, all it really confirmed was that the fucking Nazis had made him into mind slave somehow. Further, he still could be enslaved to their will. Though he was conscious now, functionally, he could very well be a sleeper agent. And that didn't sit well with Taras at all.

"He's fine now," Taras said, leveling his eyes at Yonaka. "That might not always be the case. His mind is now vulnerable. Who is to say when he is taken control of again?"

Taras blinked at Till, the Russian's face an unsympathetic wall. However, Lindemann still lived, so that was something. "We will keep a close eye on him." Ideally Taras would love to drop the man off at Stalingrad, pass him along to the covert research department and let them handle it. Sadly, they were still far from the motherland.

He was about to tell Yonaka that Lilliane was going after the escaped enemy when another obstacle presented itself, though this one was much less dire. A poor civilian or some such, if she wasn't she would probably already have shot.

< She does not speak French. I do not know about the other two. > Taras reiterated to the woman. His own French was fluid, but his Slavic accent made it clear he wasn't a native speaker - if his imposing size and Russian features didn't make that obvious already. < Put your weapon away. The threat is already gone. >
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Christ, who was she running after? Jesse Owens? Lilliane wasn't exactly an athlete, but she could hold her own when it came to running. Despite this, the nazi managed to fuck off and go god knows where. With no more target to track, she went back to the ruins of the cafe and entered through one of the human sized holes she made.

Fortunately, this meant that she wasn't under threat of being immediately shot by a panicking gunwoman. Her stand, apparently invisible to the woman, materialized behind her. Its broken, jittering form creaked and ached its claw extended above the woman's head and gently scraped along the barrel of the gun. Almost instantly, the mechanics of the gun came undone. The spring flew from the front of the gun, the magazine fell, and the slide flung itself away from the frame as each component of the pistol disassembled.

"How unlucky. Anyways, she got away. <No point staying here,>" she said with the final portion in a tone that could only be described as native, "<unless you'd wish to be caught. And I'd like to avoid deaths, even if they are Nazis. Unless you can surely erase them, there will be blood. They aren't going to target only partisans, either.>"
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𝕶𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝕺𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖔 // 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝕸𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗

⊰ I can’t decide whether you should live or die ⊱
//


While Kiara looks on suspiciously, Miss Murder slowly lowers her gun. “Alright. If you’re vouching for him, I’ll believe you.” Kiara addresses Lindemann with a friendly smile, as if she wasn’t just threatening him with death just moments ago, “Kiara Oscuro.”

Before she can say anything else, a woman appears brandishing a gun and speaking in French. Kiara is immediately on guard; she doesn’t speak French after all, so she has no idea what side she’s on. It seems that the others have it handled, though. She stays back, observing the situation.
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None of the operatives sent into France spoke any French? Was British intelligence that bad, or were these just the best they had? Dear Lord. "Madamoiselle," He switched to the Frankish language with fluidity and grace. "I can assure you we are not, and nonetheless, in a contest between us, I unfortunately do not rate you very highly, esepcially without that pistol you have. Please take us to wherever you were going to take our friend here immediately, before the rest of the boche turn up and decide that our flesh would be better suited with many little holes in it."

Then, he turned to Taras. "I know that accent. Don't presume us anything more than allies of convienience Comrade." The word was dripping with sarcasm. "Nonetheless. I think it best we vacate the area immediately. My previous colleagues will be rallying themselves." Before he could continue, Reaper emerged again.

"The Krieger sisters. Donner and Blitzen. Those two reindeer will be coming, and they'll bring with them heavier firepower than the peashooters you just had firing at you."
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The woman's eyes narrowed as Taras spoke, clearly suspicious of his accent. This changed to surprise and a cry of shock rapidly as, to her perspective, her gun simply flew apart for no reason, followed by both Lilliane and Till informing her that, yes, she was outmatched, either by the small group she was facing or the Germans who would shortly be arriving, and she should probably take them somewhere a tad safer before she had to test the latter.

It took just a moment of thought to decide she should probably do as she was asked. 'Follow me,' she uttered as she turned and began moving away, gesturing in kind for the sake of those who clearly didn't understand what she was saying.

The surrounding streets, thankfully, had yet to show signs of any German activity, or indeed too much awareness of the shootout that had recently taken place. This changed swiftly, the sound of soldiers in the near distance enhancing the urgency of the situation, but it thankfully didn't take too long for them to reach the destination the woman had in mind: an alleyway, and in turn an unremarkable brown door, swiftly unlocked and everybody ushered in and up a connecting flight of stairs with hushed 'In, in, in's and 'Up, up, up's from the woman, this time in accented English. Once everyone was through the entrance, she looked around the area once more before entering herself and locking the door behind her several times over, following them up to what must have been an intermediary safe room, for it was relatively undecorated save bland floral wallpaper, hastily put-together bedding and cloth-cushioned floorboards, and a kitchen with barely the essential utensils. Only once the doorway into this room was closed and locked did she let herself relax ever so slightly.

'...so, you claim to not be with the Boche,' she began slowly, eyeing each of them with concern, though evidently laying Lilliane's share of that upset upon Till in particular. 'This does not ensure you aren't helping them, nor does it make us friends. Nonetheless, you have seen the, ah, freaks? The, how do you say...' She frowned and twirled her hand for a moment, clearly trying to summon the phrasing to mind. 'Ghouls? Possessed men? The English escapes me, but the ones that appear to be "away from home". And survived, in fact. I wonder how.'

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Once Lilliane returned and the agents were all reunited, their surprise host made the smart decision to lead them away from the makeshift battle ground. It came as no surprise to Taras that she was suspicious of him in particular, nor did it surprise him that Till was as well - but he hadn't expected the man to voice it aloud so soon after being rescued by the group Taras was currently a part of. "Allies of convenience", was it?

"Hn." Taras lifted his chin high, stared at Till from the corner of his eyes, and smirked. "I assure you we are even less than that."

Soon after the group swept out of the ruined cage and across town. The woman brought them a modest little safe room. As she spoke, rattling on about not trusting them, Taras moseyed around the small space. He appeared casual, though he was looking for any sign that the room might be less safe than the woman thought. Besides, it was clear when Lilliane used「Future History」's ability that the woman wasn't a stand user. Anything she had to say about the "ghouls" was probably less than what the agents already knew. Unless, of course, she knew where they were coming from specifically. The Russian man glanced over at her. I doubt that.

He kept his thoughts to himself for now. That some in the room didn't trust them - didn't trust him - didn't bother him at all. Honestly it was probably in their best interest not to blindly put their trust in people they'd just met. Taras himself certainly didn't trust any of them fully. After all, some of them were spies. Still, for now, perhaps it would be better for the more... personable people among them to handle the talking, while he went about double checking the room.
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Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka


Chloe rolled her eyes a little at Taras and Lindeman, already posturing at each other. She winked at Lilliane and Kiara. "Boys, eh?" She said with a shrug. She was glad to see the Frenchwoman returned, and gladder to see that she had defused the situation with the native partisan that had stumbled upon their violent encounter. The frenchspeakers seemed to defuse the situation and Chloe happily trotted along. Ritz receded into her body and vanished for now. Kiara also seemed to believe Chloe, as well. Chloe knew what it felt like when The Reaper was all...murdery. So when then the Till de-escalated everything she was content to fully believe and trust him. Chloe was the most trusting person in the room, most likely. Probably one of the most trusting people in the world that was above the age of 13.

Chloe smiled at the woman as she lead them into her safe house. Once again Chloe flopped lazily down onto a chair, reached into her breast pocket, pulled out a cigarette and match, and lit it up. She inhaled briefly. Blood tripped from her torso wound, down onto her jeans, and stained the chair she was sitting on.

Yonaka looked the woman up and down. "Stand User! Is that it? That's us! We're Stand Users. Watch this-" The british woman extended her hand. The Stand Users in the room would see Ritz apparate, walk over and pick up two forks. Then, Ritz, with a smirk on her face, began to wobble the forks up and down. "WoooOOOoooOOoooOOo~" Cakebread waggled her reddened fingers up and down. Even for her, it was a bit silly, and it gave her pause, her affixed smile only widening as a bead of sweat dripped down her forehead.

After a moment she leaned back, wincing. She reached under her slashed crop trop and put her hand to her cut skin. Thankfully, it was on the side that wasn't covered in her tattoo of a cherry blossom tree. "Ssshhhite." She said with a little nervous chuckle.

"S'a...s'a..." She nodded over at Till. "S'a wicked fuckin' Standa ya got there, mate. Oi, uh, Tupolev. You got any more a that...healing...juice?" She snapped her fingers a few times at the Russian, not quite sure how his stand worked. All she knew was that he stabbed her with it, it hurt, but then she was alive. "I fink I could use some'a that." She said dryly. "If uh...if it's not a problem. Please, heh." She rubbed the back of her neck and took a whiff of her cigaratte and letting it filter back out between her lips.

Ritz looked on, the hulking, elegant figure holding two forks.

If one wanted too they could see Chloe's true emotions plainly on Rit'z doll-like figures. It lifted up the wooden visor of it's polished sallet-like helmet. She frowned at Taras, her big red lips pursed with worry and her inky black, drawn on eyebrows nitted together anxiously, her doughy green eyes squinting at him in pain.
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"Speaking of peashooters." Till would return his attention to the C96 that had been discarded in the fighting, hefting it up and pulling back the bolt so he could feed it fresh rounds. "MP40s are rather nice weapons. If you find yourself lacking a gun, you could do worse. I'll stick with this." With the gun reloaded, the Pole would re-attach it to a strap and heft his jacket back over his shoulders, tugging at the hem until it had settled properly. Like this, even with the broomhandle on the gun, it was almost impossible to tell the firepower he was concealing.

"Thank you." Reaper's snarl contorted into a humourless smile, frothing rage barely concealed. For those unaware. My name is「(Don't Fear) The Reaper, and I can make anything sharp. Knives. Sticks. Raindrops. And unl-"

"That is quite enough Reaper." It seemed that despite it's independence, Reaper couldn't quite manage to stay out when its user didn't want it to stay out. "Too much of what he said sounds familiar to me. Bluthund protocols. Donner and Blitzen Krieger... It's as if they're on the tip of my tongue."
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Thankfully, they had left the now-decimated cafe faster than they had arrived. Lilliane seemed to only stand in specific spots around the room. She was inspecting it for anything that was wrong. Really, Taras and Lilliane looked more like housing appraisers than anything else. Still, it was better than what Chloe was doing with those two forks. That was a very low bar to cross, unfortunately.

"Disassembly," Lilliane said curtly as she carefully dragged the back of a now gloved hand across the wallpaper. Her explanation of her power didn't carry anything that they wouldn't have already known. For someone like her, information was power. Even if she could absolutely trust the people she just fought alongside, she still wouldn't tell them anything more. Everything was on a need to know basis. They didn't need to know.

"I would suppose we should all prepare in some manner." Lilianne added, moving through her pockets as she went to check what she actually had on her. "Because I would hazard a guess that sudden violent encounters are going to become the new normal."

To Till, she made some small talk. "I've always been partial to the idea of the M1911. It's very... American. Hard to find in France." The names that he listed, however, did evoke some knowledge. "The reindeer that Saint Nicholas had? Abwehr code names are usually tongue-in-cheek."
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The French woman watched as the group went over their abilities, to an extent. The sight of two spoons hovering in midair was, surprising to be sure, but no more than her gun spontaneously falling apart - and that thanks to the other woman, of course. "Disassembly" indeed; by the strange voice that echoed out, harsh but not unlike that of the German in her house, Till seemed capable of doing such by himself already. She even got a sample of Taras' power more directly; though she'd meant to bandage the poor girl's wounds as soon as she was reminded, oh yes, these people were quite sorely wounded, by the time she'd reached the cabinet containing her medical supplies, they seemed to be healing up by themselves.

What a queer collection of individuals. "Stand Users"...

'I have heard that term before, "Stand Users",' she confirmed, licking her lips in hard thought. 'They might be that too. But, you saw what I meant, surely? They were, ah... Not alive? Their spark is gone? Not conscious, not like you.' She anxiously hoped her point was getting across: whatever was controlling them, it was not a sentient human mind. 'If they can do such things to as great an extent as they showed, no wonder they are nearly invincible. Our latest encounter aside, the only other one I know who's-' Abruptly, she stiffened up and slammed her mouth shut, eyes widening as if she'd come close to revealing something confidential.

'...I should not be so blasé. I still do not know that you are with us, of course,' she explained, words somewhat spilling from her even as her accent thickened with mild annoyance. 'Or, indeed, who you are with, if not the Germans, because there are several different nationalities in here at once. Would you care to explain that, mes amies, or am I to expect that the power to flail my cutlery is a sign of good faith?'

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Taras knew that Yonaka was a bit eccentric (Hell, both of the women he had gotten on that plane with were), but this was a bit much.

...

Oh, right, she was bleeding out. Taras may be a bit of a sadist, but his neglecting to heal Yonaka was an honest mistake. This time anyway. Their host went to fetch bandages and returned to dress the agent while Taras scoffed and approached her himself. Everyone was giving an explanation of their stands' abilities, so it wouldn't hurt to show off「Bad Case」as well. Although Taras wasn't about to state it aloud. Not that it matter - most in the room, besides the mundane woman, already knew of it's ability; and if Till was paying attention as Taras assumed he would be, the other man would soon learn it.

The Russian waved「Ritz」away and held his arm out over Yonaka, summoning his stand. The creature fell onto Chloe, light-weight despite it's mechanical look, and quickly went to work mending the worst of her injuries. It stabbed it's proboscis into the fleshy part of her stomach and twisted the skin nearby.

While「Bad Case」did it's thing, Taras regarded the other people gathered. Lilliane made a good point. He'd have to invest in some more bullets, maybe even a second pistol altogether. Before that, though.

"In other words, they were ... not brain-washed like our new friend here," Taras began, speaking on the 'ghouls' the woman brought up, "but brain dead. Strung along by those strings."

A clue in our investigation, he thought. When it seemed that another lead was about to be let slip, the woman clammed up and started in on that 'whose side are you on' business again. Taras' face clearly read, really, this again? for a few brief moments, but he smoothed his features into a neutral smile and stepped closer to their host.

"Mademoiselle, what is your name? An alias is fine," he asked, pointedly ignoring the woman's question.
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Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka


Chloe grimaced, chuckling slightly as the little robotic creature climbed on her and stuck it's little needle thingy into her. She winced, but it felt good to not be losing blood anymore. It hurt, but not as much as last time, so she had a bit of experience. So far she was the only one who had been in need of Bad Case's services, and with her personality and close combat stand, she imagined that wasn't going to be changing any time soon. At least she had The Reaper to split some of the aggro with. Chloe had already assumed Till was going to be joining them on their journey to hunt enemy Stand Users and kick some fashy ass. Meanwhile, Lillaine spoke of what guns to get, but she was hardly informed on the subject. Maybe Lilliane could pick one out. Right now all Chloe had was her Sten.

Once Bad Case was done, Chloe briefly ran a hand over the re-smoothed skin of her bare belly, wiping off some of the blood. With a warm smile she scratched the sides of the little robot's "face", like it was a dog. When she realised that Tupolev could probably feel that, she hesitated, before scratching the top of it's head instead with a giggle. Then, she gently shooed the Stand off of her as she straightend up in her chair.

She realised her fingers still felt like she was holding cold steel. At the frenchwoman's comment, Ritz shrugged indifferently and put the silverware back in it's proper place. The large wooden automoton looking Stand seemed happier now that her User's injuries had been healed.

Chloe sniffed, rubbed her nose, and leaned forward. Her elbows were on her semi-torn jeans. Yonoka, unlike Tupolev, saw fit to answer the woman's questions. It seemed the frenchwoman wouldn't be getting a consistent approach to earning her trust.

"We're with the Speedwagon Foundation!" Chloe chirped cheerily, after Taras asked her name. Her smile was big, bold, and not-at-all neutral.

"Here to help sort out this mess!" Yonaka referred to the entire country, apparently. She glanced around. The black-haired ponytailed woman saw fit to be the first to introduce herself to their humble hostess. "I'm Chloe, by the way. Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka. You can call me any of those names, should you like." Even though she was sitting, she bowed. Ritz watched on silenty in the corner, her smile as big as her User's.

Chloe continued. "Thank you for invitin' us into your 'ome, also. Y'know, don't know what we woulda done withoutcha! Probably crashed in some burnt out buildin'. But now, we got...chairs, and, heatin', and...indoor plumbin', probably. Not really...not really sure um, yeah! You musta heard of the Speedwagon Foundation, right? It's a philosophical organisation. International. Real big, like, eh?" Yonaka's spiel was finished. She eagerly awaited the as of yet unnamed frenchwoman's reply.
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The Speedwagon Foundation? That's the first time Lilliane heard anything about that. She never really had the chance to ask, all things considered. The constant fights and running made it difficult to really ask. Well, she wasn't going to ask in the first place. Professional courtesy and all that. Chloe probably would have eventually told her without asking.

"And why, pray tell, would they send operatives from a medical research and conservation group?"

Lilliane was already pinching the bridge of her nose. Really, all that her correspondence told her was that they'd be sending over some much needed supplies for the resistance. She herself wasn't even part of their group. She just had no point to separate ever since they crossed the pond. What did Blighty end up sending over and why...
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"The Speedwagon Foundation? They're a medical and environmental group based in America. Why would they be sending stand users to occupied France? And why would they have Russians as operatives?" It was clear Till was just as confused as Liliane was; if not more. The Speedwagon foundation was the last group he had suspected to have been involved in this. "Besides, none of you appear to excactly have an... Academic background. None of you even speak French!"
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Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka


"Wha-" Chloe sat up straight, her mouth turning into an offended "O." She looked between Liliane and Till. Evidently she had not expected such a response. "Wha- well, hold on!" She adjusted in her chair. Then she pointed indignantly at Tupolev.

"That Russian speaks French! Thank you very much!" She exclaimed. Once again she adjusted in her seat.

"And- and, like I said, we're here to sort out this mess! Medical and conversation. Cons-conservation-" She laughed, flustered. Sharply inhaling she gathered herself. "Call it..." Her smile widened and she leaned forward, looking smug.

"Call it preventative medicine!" Yonaka seemed quite proud of herself for that one. "That's what we're here to do. Don't need to worry 'bout no doctor stuff when you just beat the shit outta the fuckers goin' around messin' with everythin'! We're Stand Users! We- we use Stands! It's in the name! Without us, alla you poor sods in this room would be over the barrel!" Her argument concluded she crossed her arms and sat back, seeming triumphant. She glanced back at the frenchwoman."So yeah. Speedwagon Foundation."
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'Précisément,' she replied, in response to Taras' statement regarding the ghouls, only to be a bit blindsided by Chloe's explanation. The Speedwagon Foundation? They were... well, she was enthusiastic about them, in any case. Frankly, though, the rest of the group didn't seem to share it, at least until Miss Cakebread explained further; ultimately, though, she sighed with relief rather than exasperation.

'I do know them, yes,' she explained, smiling gently. 'Whatever their reasons or methods for acting here, I know they would not help the Germans, not after such atrocities. Very well.'

Moving around the room, she began working to help sterilise and bandage any stray cuts the others had, looking them over as she spoke to them. 'My name is Alouise. When the war started, and France was first occupied, I was sadly content to rest on my laurels as the Boche took over the nation. Fool that I was... one day, perhaps a year and three months ago, members of my family were accused of hiding or being malcontents. Jews, homosexuals, slavs, I'm not sure exactly. The point is, my entire family on my mother's side was taken away. Great grandfather, grandfather, grandmother, mother, uncle, even my cousin Jeanne. I escaped their attentions only by proving openly that I had done no such thing, and that was but barely.

'Part of me wonders if I ought to have let myself go with them. I miss them greatly...' She took a second, dabbing the tears from her eyes and sniffling. 'Pardonnez. But it was my inaction that lost my family. I couldn't let that happen to others.' Now determination welled in her eyes as she concluded her business, not pain and grief. 'I did my research, found my way into this rebellion, and was assigned to a cell here in Orléans, by order of... my boss, shall we say. I don't know how significant she is to the counterattack as a whole, but she is certainly a major organiser - I apologise, I only have her codename: Lily the Pink.'

Putting the supplies back in the cupboard, she took a seat again, looking over the mixed crowd with some consideration. 'If you wish to help us, you have two routes by my consideration. First, stay here and help rebuild the local resistance. We have lost a lot of manpower; if you are Stand Users, even one of your number would be incredibly useful. Or, second... seek her out. I can send a message forward, and a meeting can be arranged, if you don't mind somewhat of a trek. That may be more useful for expunging the Germans in their entirety, perhaps, but...' She leaned back in her chair, a grimace crossing her face. It'd be dangerous either way - though, she suspected they knew that much, and were of all people prepared for it most.

@Zoey Boey@Yankee@OwO@Lady Selune
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